


Remedy

by earthseraph



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha!Bucky, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega!Steve, Sick!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been said that mates can feel each other’s emotions if the bond’s strong enough. That they can feel distress, happiness, even when their mate’s cycle’s coming. That it’s almost like the mate’s souls have become one with each other, unable to be split by the universe, and Bucky knows this to be true.</p><p>(Or: the one where Bucky's actually sick)</p><p>For <a href="http://redtintedhale.tumblr.com/">Fei</a>, from the <a>Stucky Secret Santa Challenge</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pseudofoucault333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofoucault333/gifts).



> For [Fei](http://redtintedhale.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> I love writing ABO verse so thank you for having that as an option c:
> 
> Title from Remedy by Adele.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

It’s been said that mates can feel each other’s emotions if the bond’s strong enough. That they can feel distress, happiness, even when their mate’s cycle’s coming. That it’s almost like the mate’s souls have become one with each other, unable to be split by the universe, and Bucky knows this to be true.

He can feel when Steve’s getting beat to a pulp in some far off alley, each swing that hits Steve’s face impacts his own lightly- not enough to hurt, like a tap of fingers. Each kick to Steve’s stomach makes him cough out a lost breath. Every punch Steve manages to land makes his knuckles itchy, almost burning from the slide of skin on skin. He can feel when Steve’s happy, little tingles run up his arms, a smile tugging at his own lips, a little laugh bubbling out of his own lips even when he’s doing boring grad school work. He can feel when Steve’s Heat’s near, warmth pooling in his own stomach, sweat prickling under his collar, his breath coming out wet and rough, his own cock leaking precome in his boxers. And he can feel when Steve’s sick.

It’s, unfortunately, the most common feeling in their bond. Each cough that wrecks Steve’s body, each fever that burns Steve’s skin, every sore throat and cut off breath, he can feel. Like the other things he can feel in their bond, it’s not to the extent that Steve’s experiencing. It’s nothing that makes him miss a day of work or class, or that makes him want to sleep something off he doesn’t have. But it is something that worries him, and the moment he feels an itch in the back of his throat and hot air coming out of his nostrils, he _knows_.

* * *

* * *

This has to be one of the worst winters they’ve had, it _has_ to be.

Wind’s whipping the thick jacket and scarf combo he has on, snow’s piling on the sidewalk, making his trek back home harder than it should be, and he feels like his fingers are going to fall off from the chill biting at them. His nose is probably as red as a cherry from the cold, and his eyelashes might fall right off his lids if he doesn’t make it home and out of this flurry of snow soon.

At home there’s probably an unassuming Steve, working on a commission, or reading some new book. Completely unaware to the fact that Bucky skipped trying to catch the bus for walking in the snow because he knows he can get home much faster than any wheels can take him. Sure he’d much rather be on the bus out of comfort, but comfort isn’t on his mind when the back of his throat itches and he wants to sneeze despite the fact that Bucky Barnes Does Not Get Sick. He doesn’t need warm-bus-comfort when he knows either in the next couple hours or late tonight Steve’s not going to be the one comfortable. So the snow can screw itself, the chill wrecking his body can go to hell, the way his jeans are sticking to his legs and socks are wet in his shoes he can ignore. Anything in his way from getting home to Steve needs to step aside because he’s a man on a mission. And that mission is to take care of his mate.

In his hands he’s clutching a paper bag like a lifeline, his knuckles turning white, frost biting at his fingers because he didn’t exactly think about bringing gloves with him to class. Inside the bag is a bottle of cough syrup he bought from the campus convenience store, and yeah, there’s probably a bottle somewhere in their tiny apartment, but he’s a little too worried to think about that.

He’s too worried wondering whether this cold is going to turn into bronchitis or pneumonia. It’s happened before, a simple cold turning into something way worse because Steve was too stubborn to mention it ahead of time. He’s too worried wondering if he’s going to have to call his mom and ask for a ride to the hospital because neither he or Steve have a car, the bus and subway take too long, and a cab will cost too much- though, to Bucky, nothing will be too expensive for Steve, even if it leaves him broke or in debt,but unfortunately for him cabbies don’t take fierce words as payment. He’s too worried wondering if Steve’s fallen somewhere in their apartment and isn’t near his phone. He’s wanted to get Steve an alert necklace, one with a button to push if he falls and doesn’t have the strength to get up, but he doesn’t want to insult Steve by giving him something marketed to old people. He doesn’t want to offend or hurt his mate like that. He never would because even though the old rhyme goes ‘sticks and stones will break my bones but words could never hurt me’ a bruise is temporary whereas words are forever. And he’d never give Steve either, he may be an Alpha but he’s good to his mate, he loves Steve, and if he ever hurt him he doesn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself.

Bucky shakes his head, snow falling out of his hair, and huffs out a breath. He clears his throat, trying to get the itch out, and ignores the snow soaking through his pants. He can almost see their street coming up. He keeps walking.

* * *

* * *

The apartment’s silent when Bucky finally gets home. He’s soaked head to toe from the snow, and the bottle of medicine is still clutched tightly in his hand, slightly frozen but still liquid. Quietly- in case Steve’s sleeping- he toes off his boots, slips of his pants, and throws off the rest of his clothes until he’s down to just his- thankfully mostly dry- boxers. He ignores the chill running down his body for the itch in the back of his throat and goes to search for Steve.

Their apartment isn’t very big, only a one bedroom with the basic kitchen, living room-slash-dining room, bathroom, and hall closet, but it’s their home and that’s all that matters. They bought the apartment when they both finished college and escaped dorm life, it’s been theirs ever since, and on Steve’s graphic designer gig and him going to grad school with a weekend job it’s the perfect place. It has good insulation, keeping the cold and heat out, and their landlord’s pretty nice when they forget to pay the bill. They’ve made the apartment their own with pictures and trinkets in every corner, they ignore the crazy scientist down the hallway and sometimes take in their neighbor's cat when she goes away on a trip. There’s not a crazy Alpha in their complex that Steve would pick a fight with or Bucky would get into fights with, and everyone respects Steve. It’s home.

He makes his way through the apartment, peeking his head into the kitchen to make sure Steve isn’t quietly working at the little breakfast table-he’s not. He walks past the bathroom- door’s open with the light off, no Steve- and heads straight for their bedroom. Like he figured, Steve’s sitting at the desk they set up for him at the window, listening to something soft and soothing that makes Bucky want to throw himself on the bed and pass out. 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says quietly, the itch in his throat’s getting worse so Steve must be getting worse.

Steve turns around in his seat and smiles at him, “Hey, Buck, how was class?” 

Bucky ignores the question and sets the paper bag on Steve’s desk. He doesn’t bend down to kiss Steve like Steve expects but places a cold hand on Steve’s forehead, apologizing when Steve flinches back at the coolness of his hands, he frowns when he doesn’t feel abnormal heat against his palm.

“I ain’t sick, Buck, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Steve says, mirroring Bucky’s frown but letting him keep his hand against his forehead. 

“You sure?” because Bucky feels that ever persistent itch in the back of his throat and is now starting to feel woozy. Odd. 

“I think I’d know if I was sick,” Steve deadpans, giving Bucky a _Seriously?_ look, even with Bucky’s hand still on his forehead.

“But,” Bucky frowns more, “the bond’s never wrong.” 

Never once has the bond failed him. It’s been the most accurate thing he knows, better than those pregnancy suppressant pills or that little Heat calendar app Steve has on his phone. Through the bond they’re able to tell when one of them’s about to get on their Heat or Rut, when someone’s sick, how someone’s feeling when they’re having a bad communication day. And now, on what has to be the coldest day this year, with an itch in the back of his throat and a woozy head, the bond’s wrong? It can’t be. It’s never wrong and he’ll bet all his money on that. 

“Bond?” Steve frowns for a split second before realizing, “You think I’m sick ‘cause you’re feeling something in the bond?”

Bucky nods, “Yeah.”

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes Bucky’s hand down, he gets up off his chair and sighs, placing his own small hand on Bucky’s forehead, Bucky stares at it, not used to being on the other side of things, “You ever think for a second you could be the one feeling it?”

Bucky blinks, “No,” because, really, he never gets sick. Bucky Barnes Does Not Get Sick. If he feels an itch in the back of his throat, he’s gonna assume it’s Steve getting sick since because Steve’s the one that’s always sick. He doesn’t remember a year since they met on that playground decades ago when Steve wasn’t sick, so he would never assume himself.

Steve sighs and forcefully walks Bucky back with the hand on his forehead. Bucky, confused as ever, follows Steve’s lead and settles on the bed when Steve pushes him down. 

“Steve?” Bucky looks up at Steve as he walks to their closet, tossing sweats and a shirt on the bed, “Steve,” Bucky repeats, raising his voice this time, wincing at the pain that follows.

“You’re an idiot, you know that, Buck?” Steve says, motioning for him to stand up when he grabs the sweats. Steve drops to his knees, nodding to where he’s holding the pants open.

Bucky swallows, the position making his thoughts go south, “Uh..”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Get your head out of the gutter and stick your foot in the pant, Buck.”

He nods and complies, placing a hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder to balance himself. He gives Steve a smile that has to be sappy when Steve pulls the pants up and ties the drawstring, “So, how ‘m I an idiot?”

“It would take me too long to tell you the complete list,” Steve says, making Bucky sit back down on the bed, helping him into a shirt, Bucky snorts, “but this time it’s ‘cause you think I’m sick, when you’re the one that’s actually sick.”

Bucky pouts, “I don’t get sick, and the bond-”

“The bond’s telling _me_ that you’re the sick one.” Steve interrupts, “And it makes sense,” Steve goes on, “you’ve been stressing over finals and completing your classes next semester, you’ve been out in the cold way too much, and you got snowed on today.”

Bucky watches as Steve turns his back to him and pulls the bottle of medicine out of the back. Steve reads the bottle over, mindlessly pushing his hair back and scoffing at the bottle. He watches him grab the bottle and walk out of the room, leaving Bucky sitting on their bed staring at the place Steve once was. He sighs and lowers himself back on the bed, stretching his feet out on the floor. He doesn’t want to admit that he maybe is feeling worse than something that goes through the bond, but the pounding in his head’s getting annoying and the itch in the back of his throat has grown. He closes his eyes, sighing at how nice the bed feels surrounding him. Steve is right, though, he’s been overworking himself so he can finish his master's next semester, only sleeping and eating when Steve sets a plate in front of him or pulls him to their bed. He’s ignored layering up when leaving the house for putting on whatever’s clean and hoping a thick jacket will do the trick. But he doesn’t want to admit it.

He wonders if this is how Steve feels. Not wanting to admit he’s sick. Wanting to just lay in bed all day because headaches and sore throats suck but not doing it ‘cause there’s better things to do. Not wanting to take medicine but having to anyways because that’s how he’ll get better, even if it tastes like shit or hurts to swallow. See, he never gets sick, he’s always the one taking care of Steve, always the one clouding the bond with worry. It’s not that he wants Steve to be on the other side of things, but he thinks being taken care of by Steve would be nice. He thinks being doted on and cuddled for a day or two would be a nice change in pace for them. He thinks-

-Bucky jumps when Steve places a hand on a strip of skin not covered by his shirt.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve says softly, he holds up a foil packet with two orange pills, “take these for me?”

Bucky nods, taking the foil packet and sitting up, he frowns at the rush flowing to his head. He rips the packet open and puts the pills in his mouth, gratefully taking the glass of water Steve raises to his lips, “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve smooths his hair back, “You always do this for me, so now it’s my turn.”

“Damn right,” Bucky mumbles, getting off the bed so he can get under the covers. He settles into the pillows and mattress, smiling when Steve crawls in, letting Bucky pull him into his chest, “I might get you sick.”

Steve sighs, placing a hand on the side of Bucky’s neck, “Then you can take care of me.”

Bucky nods, sleep already taking him over, “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you liked the fic reblog [this link](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/136056598320/remedy-by-earthseraph-for-pseudofoucalt333)?


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